Chapter 12
Deliverance
Gideon must somehow have caught me, for the next thing I knew, he was carrying me up the stairs.
"Let me go–”
"You should tell me when you are sick, instead of trying to be a martyr," he snarled, and I turned my head away as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
Was this the wages of my sin for how I had been so proud before? Of my grand house with Papa, of my pretty full lips, my neat figure? Now cursed to spend the rest of my life with a cruel uncaring husband?
He dumped me unceremoniously on the bed, and I turned silently away from him. All I wanted was to be alone, but Gideon rolled me back toward him.
"Now what’s wrong with you? Your underthings too tight? Let’s see.”
Panic seized me.
“No! I’m fine, I’m fine. Just go away!”
Gideon frowned.
“Obey your husband. Now let me see.”
When I tried to move away, he pounced on the bed and with one powerful rip—he tore my dress open.
I caught my breath, trying to suck in my stomach. Perhaps he would not notice! Gentlemen did not know much about pregnancy, did they?
But my husband frowned, pulling apart the ruins of my shapeless old dress.
And there it was—the little rounded bump of my belly.
Gideon said nothing for a moment, but I felt the bedclothes tighten underneath me as he stared.
"You are with child?" he asked sharply.
"Yes," I said in a choked tone.
I did not dare to look at him, but stiffened as his hard, calloused hands crossed my skin, feeling for the edges of the bump.
"You’re carrying my child," he said in a low voice.
For a moment there was complete and utter silence in the room, my heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would burst from my chest.
Then Gideon flipped up one of my legs, rustling with his breeches, and slid his cock between my thighs and into my wet cunny.
The sounds of his thrusts were loud in the quiet of the room, but I was used to the wet sloppy noises now and concentrated on relaxing my hips and muscles so my cunny would not be sore later.
To my surprise, I felt his fingers on my chin, drawing my face toward him.
"I am very pleased with you," he said.
My nipples tightened at the unexpected words.
I did not know how to respond, but the sight of my face turned toward him seemed to quicken his release, and he soon closed his eyes and grunted louder than usual as he released the sticky seed into me.
"I will send a servant to bring a tray and light the fire in here," he said abruptly. “You will need to get proper food and lots of rest.”
I did not care if he was happy with me or not. I only wanted to escape him.
To my surprise, servants shortly came in with a full bowl of mild, delicious soup and crusty bread, and did stoke the fire high enough to last all night. It was almost enough to smother the line of rot that slid through my room at Grayspires.
He must want to make sure his heir is healthy, I thought numbly to myself.
The next morning I felt a little better at not having to arise in such a chilled bedroom and went down to breakfast with what composure I could.
Gideon was sitting at a writing-table in the receiving-room, and when he saw me through the door he crossed the floor in haste, pulling out my chair and seating me neatly.
"Put on this shawl," he ordered. "The room is not yet warm enough for you."
Ada watched with astonishment, setting her teacup down with a jolt that shook the whole table.
"What is going on? There is no need to coddle her."
Gideon scoffed, the callouses on his hands brushing by my arms.
"Ada, Deliverance is carrying my child. She will certainly require a warm room," he said shortly. "You will be responsible for making sure the servants keep her rooms comfortable, and I will expect you personally to fetch and carry for my wife if she needs anything."
He headed back to his writing desk and began to seal the letter he had written.
And suddenly, there was a crack.
I whirled around to where my husband’s mistress was sitting. Ada's face looked white, her cheeks drawn, the little lines harsh around her full lips.
She was still clutching the teacup in her hand, even though it had split right through the middle.
There was something unsettling in her expression, like cracks had begun to appear all along the fine beautiful planes of her face.
And Ada didn't even seem to notice the blood dripping between her fingers. . .